“I would like to think so,” he said “but we have only known each other a short time.”
“Do you think friendship must necessarily be a growth of years?” she asked.
“On the contrary,” he replied, “I believe that when people meet for the first time they are either friends or not, there is a sort of instinctive affinity or repulsion, although it may not be felt at the moment.”
She looked at him with a roguish smile. “And which was it in my case?” she said.
He did not answer to her mood. “You are on dangerous ground, you do not know who you are taking as a friend.” There was almost a note of warning in his voice. He had always been reserved and self-contained, but of a sudden he stopped and said with emotion:
“Would to God I had never come to England!”
She was startled, for it was the first revelation of what had been dimly at the back of her mind, that he was not entirely English.
He collected himself, and then walked on.
“I am sorry, for forgetting myself, perhaps I ought to tell you I was born in Italy and my mother was Italian, although my father was English. I shall be going back soon, when my work is over.”
“Your work!” she said.